St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-05-23
A BITTER PENANCE.
The Romance of Years Which
Ended at Last.

"A ELNANCE.
The Romance of Years Which
Ended at Last.
Kansas City Times.
The stage stopped at the porch of the
Great Mumpington hotel, the travellers
alighted-among them striking looking
man in handsome coat, that with its
length and breadth of shoulder, its fuI
cuffs and fur collar gave him something
OF Russian aspect. He was handsome
elegant and about 80 years of age.
''Beep to the wedding, Mrs. Crosby?''
said one. ''And did it not go off well?
And was the bride as pretty and the
groom as unimportant as usual? A man
is never so entirely overlooked as at his
own wedding, unless, indeed, his
mother is there to wonder why so fine a
fellow chose such girl"
he, he," laughed Mrs. Crosby.
FELTON,! Well, his mother wasn't there,
l assure you, for she must be too old to
get about, if she's living. He's so, 1 am
told. To think of woman of % accept
ing such an old creaturer'
but he's rich," said Boniface. She'll
be darling widow in year or so.
One of our bellies, SIR" he said, address
ing the stranger of whom we have
spoken. Miss Beulah Blair, DR.. Blair's
only daughter, as pretty a young lady as
the sun shines on"
Every one at the table noticed the
strangers face as this communication
fell on his ears. His rudy color faded,
his eyes dilated; he sat there as white
as though smitten with death; for mo-
ment he did not speak.
Tho blood ruchnd hoa D. L:
finally.
He lifted the glass at his plate in the
air.
"a health to the bride" he cried, .and
long life to the bridegroom
They drank the toast, one or two of
them forming the opinion that this fur
coated stranger was some great TRACE
dian who had resolved to aStonish them.
They dispersed away to their own du-
ties or pleasures when the meal was
over. He assembled to the room to
which his luggage had been carried.
His sudden pallor had been no actors
trick. The blood had forsaken his
cheek at the bidding of terrible emo
ton. From distant lands, where he had
tolled for nine long years to win fame
and fortune, he had returned, crowned
with success, to marry precisely this
Beulah Blair-this bride of the old man
OF 80: She had vowed herself to him,
worn his ring, written him the tender
est OF love letters, and Tilted him at last,
that is If these people spoke truth. He
is not one to go away without making
sure that there was no mistake about
that. Wrapping himself up in his fur
coat, he Stalked out of the house into
the long village street and took his way
to the well-known spot, the garden gate,
from which years ago DR.. Blair had
hidden him depart, reproaching him for
his audacity in counting his only daugh-
ter-he poor and young and without
prospects. But she had met him in the
bit OF woodland they knew so well and
vowed fidelity. Was this the end of
it all?
So it seemed. The house was all
ablaZe with light, and approaching the
long windows which opened on the gar
den he saw her-Beulah! his Beulahl as
he had so often called her.
She stood there in her bridal dress.
her rich veil falling to her feet: shading
but not concealing her lovely face and
hair and the exquisite outline of her
figure.
Returning to the hotel he wrote a long
and bitter letter, full of reproaches and
of sarcasm. posted it and paid his bill,
Before daylight the handsome stranger
had left the town behind him. He
sought in travel the peace that no man
ever yet found save in his own heart.
He remained away five years. At the
end of that time he returned. He had
left his hOme-the home to which he had
hoped to return with his bride-iust as
had been arranged. merely locking and
barring windows and doors. There was
a ietter-boX at the entrance, and into
this numbeI~of letters and papers had
been thrust from without, for he had left
no address behind him.
Turning these over with a careless
hand he came to one addressed in Beu-
lah's writing. How well he knew it!
She had, then, replied to his letter.
With trembling hand he tore it open
and read these words:
Dear Archibald: Yes, always dear to
me. Had deserved your reproaches I
should not write these words. They
told me you were married to a woman
of fortune and title-a German countess.
l believed them. | married whom they
chose to give me to. | thought my old
husband kind and worthy. | respected
him. Alas! | cannot do that any
longer. He died suddenly a week after
our wedding day, and in his desk I
found your letters, which he had pur-
Joined and secreted, and also proof of
the conspiracy by which he forced me
to believe you married to another. |
shall strive to forgive him, but / do not
know that it will be in my power. Your
unhappy BEIIAH
The date was that of nearly five years
before. Even at that period he had
loved her still, but he had so carefully
taught himself to despise and hate her
that the letter seemed at first to have no
effect upon him.
The train bore him swiftly to Great
Mumpington. The stage carried him to
the hotel. 1t was dinner time. Again
the affable landlord sat at the head of
his table. He recognized his guest at
once.
''Great Mumpington does not change
much, SIR" he said. ''There was we'd
ding here the day you spent with us.
Do you remember?-Dr.B lair's daughter
married rich man OF S0I Well, sir,
he died within a week, and i'm
looking over his papers they found
something that proved him a rascal.
The brides father was in the affair. Ii